You Got Me
by ace-of-trumps
Summary: Rikkai's captain deals with Issues, including the strange and exciting entity of Sanadatobe, and his data manager. features Sanadatobe, RenjiYuki, implied YagyuuNiou, implied RenjiSanada, musical!Marui, homicidal!Akaya, trauma!Jackal, and ELS.


**[YOU GOT ME]**

**feat.** Sanadatobe, Renji*Yuki, implied Yagyuu*Niou, implied Renji*Sanada, musical!Marui, homicidal!Akaya, trauma!Jackal, and ELS.   
**rating:** generally attempts to be naughty, but no boy-bits are directly involved.   
**summary:** the captain of Rikkai deals with somes Issues that have cropped up in his absence, including the strange and exciting entity called Sanadatobe and his data manager.   
**note:** the following is compiled from bits of what my flatmates and I actually say to each other at home, and contains more plotholes than overfermented Swiss cheese. it was written because SomeOne put thoughts of ebil!Yuki in my head, and the song Renji whistles is 'You Got Me' by Chemistry. 

* * *

"Yukimura.." 

If Genichirou Sanada could have ever removed his baseball cap from the top of his head, now would have been a good time to do so, because he'd be damned if he didn't need something for his hands to fidget helplessly with and, figuratively speaking, pull suitable words out of. It was always like this: leave him alone with Yukimura for longer than two minutes and his pants would begin to feel distinctly antsy. I mean, he thought angrily to himself, it's not _my_ fault, dammit! Renji Yanagi had assured him of this long ago, and even now whenever he began to feel threatened he repeated the mantra ELS, ELS, ELS in his head. "Everybody Loves Seiichi," he repeated after Yanagi, "it's _his_ fault." 

"Whose fault?" 

Sanada wilted in the soft glow of Yukimura's smile. "Oh, um, Renji's fault, that I'm late," he said, "I was on the phone with him, that's why." 

"Why what?" 

Eyebrows bunching together, Sanada prepared to speak again, but Yukimura held up a slim hand (was that _light_, falling through it?) and rose from his desk. Sanada watched him move across the classroom (appreciatively, damning himself as he did) to the window, picking up the chalk duster from the blackboard as he did. A moment's pause, Yukimura leaning languidly out of the window (Sanada looked violently away, repeating his mantra and gripping the edges of the table he was sitting on), then a feeling of swift passage, a violent thump and a yelp. Sanada could have sworn he also heard a bubble popping; then he realised this meant that the loud and annoying Spanish guitar music, which had been playing in the background for about ten minutes now and totally distorted all attempts at communication, had finally stopped. 

"Marui, sweet?" 

"Dude," Marui's voice intoned faintly from the window below, "buchou, I mean (_mogu mogu_), whazzap?" 

"Turn your speakers down, you'll spoil your eardrums." 

There was a small pause, during which Sanada _knew_ Marui's thoughts would jump blindingly far ahead, and then a very eager question of, "Will you (_mogu mogu_) buy me a cake if I do? (_mog-mog-mogu_)" 

"If you turn it off--" 

"I will, I will! (_mog-mogu mog-mogu mog_) Can it be a strawberry one?" 

"Hmm, we'll see." 

Marui was chewing in far too great an excitement now for Sanada to understand his reply, but it was evidently a satisfactory one, because Yukimura turned away from the window with a tranquil, all-is-well look on his face. He smiled wearily at Sanada, who, unsure of what emotion to share, bared his teeth briefly in response. 

"Really, I feel terrible for troubling you all the while," Yukimura said. "It's exhausting keeping just Marui and Akaya out of trouble. And then there's _Niou_.. By the way, if Jackal ever calls you at three in the morning to talk about his inferiority complexes, did you know he gets _terribly_ embarrassed and hangs up all flustered if you pretend you're in the middle of doing someone?" 

"Don't you mean 'something'?" 

"No." 

"Ah," Sanada said, then he added, "I want you to know I'm seeing Keigo Atobe," as brusquely as he could. 

There. He'd said it and now he'd have to live with the consequences. God, it felt _good_ having the truth laid out flat and firm like that, instead of all the sniping and smuggling wistful longing looks and the layers of subterfuge and between-the-lines dialogues he'd been keeping up for two or three years with Yukimura. He gritted his teeth and looked away from his best friend's face, knowing full well it was still a face that could break his heart; how beautiful it was in a way that transcended the simple mechanics of flesh and bone and made you want to huddle in a heap at its knees while apologizing for hurting it. Actually that last bit was quite a good idea because it meant he wouldn't have to meet Yukimura in the eyes and although he was, what's it called, the Emperor of high school tennis and samurai reincarnate and iron-willed etc, he had a particular dread of Yukimura's eyes when they were on the verge of tears but valiantly holding it back (it had happened once, when Akaya and Marui had decided to fight, and Yukimura's sense of justice had been _totally_ torn between the two babbies). 

But now it had seemed to have been an _awfully_ long time since he had spoken and he wondered if that was exactly what was happening while he refused to meet Yukimura in the eye. And suddenly there was the feeling of a hand on his chin, Yukimura's fingers light and dreamy as gossamer-touch in sunlight but steadily pulling his face in a particular direction, and Sanada couldn't possibly have jerked his head away from a force as gentle as that but he could sort of edge and lean it in another direction, so that's what he did. Only Yukimura's fingers found out and started pulling him back from that other direction so he had to find another one to lean into, away, and then Yukimura found him out and he had to start again, until he realised he was leaning in the direction of Yukimura's eyes and then he panicked and started backwards, breaking contact. 

Help, he thought, it was worse than he feared. There _was_ a tear forming in at least one pain-narrowed eye, crystalline sparkle glowing bright and wet against the fathomless depths of dilated blue iris; as Sanada watched, stricken into silence, it tracked wet and sorrowful down Yukimura's pale, hollow cheek. 

"And what about Renji?" Yukimura whispered, reproachfully. 

In the room below them Marui's disc of Spanish guitar music went _eeeeeyooowp_ and scritched to a nasty halt. 

--------------------- 

"Renji.. Has Sanada told you?" 

Yanagi Renji steeled himself for the assault, whatever it was (he deduced that whatever it was, it would come with Seiichi's Bambi's Mother-Has-Just-Been-Shot Eyes, and as per 95% of the time he was right). Just because he'd identified ELS didn't mean he was immune to it. 

"I'm so sorry, Renji." 

He hadn't known it would feel this bad. He was sure it didn't show on his face, but he was glad that he had chosen non-expression as his default setting; how did it feel for Yukimura, he wondered, wearing that peaceful, quiet smile all the time? But at least now he wouldn't have to pretend he was smiling. I should be happy for him, Yanagi thought; and grateful, in a rather bittersweet way, to hear from his own mouth that I do mean at least something to him. And he knows what he means to me. Isn't that the most important thing? 

In the midst of all his furious, silent thought processing, he became dimly aware that Yukimura had put thin arms around him and was giving him the sort of warm, supportive embrace that Akaya usually earned after being severely reprimanded for biting someone's ear half off. No one was quite sure why Yukimura did this, and they only understood that it was _safe_ for him to do so because he was probably the only person whom Akaya didn't _want_ to bite (sometimes respect, fear and / or a good strong gag was all that stood between his teeth and Sanada's fingers). Yanagi privately thought Yukimura's tender and not entirely wholesome love was worsening Akaya's Issues, but at least now that he was back, they didn't need to tie Akaya to something solid any more, and Jackal had entire afternoons free to go for therapy. Yanagi then realised he was purposely trying to think of something else, and looked down at Yukimura's head of soft curls against his shoulder. 

"It's okay," he lied, reminding himself that Sanada was his best friend, Yukimura was his other best friend, and that had to mean _something_ (and it was not a threesome, he really had to scold himself for even considering that). "I'll be okay." He pushed Yukimura away, gently, always a feeling that a wrong movement might disable the other boy permanent; then the words stuck in his throat and he turned around, marched away. 

It was fortunate for him that the unused classroom he barged into in order to vent his feelings happened to be the same one which Sanada and Atobe had decided was deserted enough for their particular, noisy and rather violent use; otherwise, it would have taken him a really long time to realise what the hell Yukimura had been talking about. It wasn't really fortunate for Sanada and Atobe, but Yanagi was sure they'd get over the shock faster if he made his apologies later and just left as soon as possible for now. 

In the meantime, Marui gave up trying to repair his Spanish guitar music CD, and put 'Bailamos' on instead. 

--------------------- 

That very night, Yanagi held an emergency meeting with the rest of the Rikkai regulars who did not have Issues of their own. This consisted of one Yagyuu Hiroshi. 

"What are you so surprised about?" Yagyuu asked, mildly. "You were at the camp, weren't you? Oh, you were in the room down the hall.." 

"Ah, they shared a room. But I'm surprised _you and Niou_ heard anything." 

Glasses glinted as Yagyuu tilted his head, his face the very picture of good manners. "Oh," he said, "Akaya doesn't really need his gag when he's sleeping.. I didn't think anyone would miss it. But I'm surprised you didn't _hear_ anything about those two.." 

Yanagi remained silent, although Yagyuu was quite sure his mind was wandering to the exact position of a file somewhere in his computer detailing the nuances of every smirk, wink and suggestive comment Keigo Atobe had ever aimed at Sanada when no one was looking (Yanagi did not count himself as a member of 'no one', as Yagyuu had found out one day when giving Niou a nice soothing backrub while 'no one' was in the locker room). It had been a cheap shot, but Yanagi always gave as good as he got (even if he didn't get) so Yagyuu figured, might as well give it to him right and proper. 

"However," Yagyuu continued, sipping his tea politely, "I believe he's a lot more fond of you than he lets on, you know." 

"Who?" Yanagi asked, surprised. Yagyuu did not normally confide such valuable information without an insane price attached to it. 

"You know." Glasses glinted again; Yanagi cursed the wattage of his room's overhead light, glared through half-lidded eyes at Yagyuu's smooth smile. "I mean, _I_ know." 

Yanagi's heart forgot a pulse, skipped and skittered upwards in his throat. This internal acrobatics claimed his voice for a while, during which Yagyuu went on to say, "Well, it's rather _obvious_ when we all hang around each other that long.. Anyway it's not like you spend much time away from each other, is it? If I see you I pretty much know who else I'll see. So cheer up, Yanagi-kun, hmm?" 

No answer for a long time, and Yagyuu thought he'd pushed it a bit too far; then, Yanagi set his teacup down on the table and shrugged his shoulders in a graceful but peculiarly loose movement. Yagyuu remembered his name meant _willow_; it had never seemed more appropriate. "He thinks I'm disappointed," Yanagi said. "He told me about Sanada and Atobe. And I thought all along he knew what I thought about him; that it was he and Sanada who finally spoke to each other; that he was trying to let me down gently. I mean, he was.. But it wasn't what I thought it would be.. Yagyuu?" 

"It's Yukimura? Really?" 

Yanagi's fingers tapped on his knee, dangerously close to the teapot. "Yagyuu-kun, where did you learn to lie with a straight face like that? It's not gentlemanly behaviour, you know." 

"On the contrary," Yagyuu said, "it's all about the straight face. But now I know exactly what you're feeling, such a shame, absolutely dreadful.. Would you like a hug?" 

With considerably more feeling than he'd ever expressed in his life, Yanagi looked straight at Yagyuu and said, "Your _mother_." 

"Knows _your_ mother," Yagyuu said, adjusting his glasses. "Oh dear, that's the last of the tea. I wonder if I could possibly trouble you for some more, no I wouldn't dream if it's a bother. Really? Well, thank you so very much, you are really too kind." 

--------------------- 

Training afternoons at Rikkai's tennis courts were usually awesome spectacles and lessons in skill and power and cunning, but today was rather dampened by Sanada's inability to concentrate, given the presence of one Hyoutei diva lounging beneath a gigantic umbrella in a deckchair his chaffeur had installed by the side of the courts. Sanada was a stoic man, but then again, Atobe wasn't wearing a shirt, so that was ten years of martial-arts self-control training instantly shot to hell. It looked for a while like he had returned to his old self after Akaya joyously smashed his tenth twist serve on Sanada's side of the court, taking Sanada's cap off on its rebound, but he wasn't exactly stupid either and figured he'd lose the match faster than he could win it - following which he would be free to go off and scold Atobe for invading practice time and probably disciplining him severely in a broom closet somewhere. 

"Boring!!" Akaya proclaimed after he'd won the match. He sat down grumpily on the court and pulled an angry face at Sanada. "Go play with boyfriend. Go away!! Next!!" 

"Warning, warning," Yanagi reported to Yukimura, "Akaya is starting to neglect his personal pronouns." 

"Oh dear," Yukimura said, but he didn't sound like he cared, for once. Yanagi stared at the cellphone in his hand as Yukimura said, "Can you tie him up if he gets unreasonable and I'll deal with him in fifteen minutes?" 

No, Yanagi thought even as he replied in the affirmative; no, that wasn't Yukimura's style at all. Where was the captain of Rikkai if he wasn't on the court during practice hours? Yanagi worked out a plausible answer, left Yagyuu in charge (ignoring the pleasant smile on Yagyuu's face) and slipped off to confirm his calculations. He was pleasantly surprised to hear, above the sound of the showers, that he was indeed correct. 

His calculations had gone something like this: Yukimura was ridiculously loyal to the tennis club, and if not on the courts would then be in the locker room. But why would he be in the locker room? No one would be there, and he'd be alone, which he usually didn't like to be, unless of course he _wanted_ to be alone, and the reasons why.. Yanagi recollected how the day had gone in school, noted the unusual number of couples holding hands and kissy-wissying and making noises from underneath tables and inside various cupboards. He reminded himself that Yukimura was still human. 

But he'd forgotten; so was _he_. Listening to the sounds coming from the shower made his head spin. No, more accurately they made certain bits of him swimmy, other bits uncomfortably stiff, and were rapidly urging him on to barge into the showers and assist in increasing their volume and frequency.. but that was hardly a diplomatic action. He settled for shutting the door loudly - no, obviously Yukimura was far too gone to hear that - and then for opening his locker noisily, banging the metal door against its hinges, whistling a cheerful jazzy melody from a really nice song he'd heard on the radio that morning. The exciting, terrible sounds coming from the shower faded, stopped; eventually the water turned off, and Yanagi strategically placed himself very comfortably and neatly on the bench, in a dim spot against the wall, where he usually placed himself out of the way and observed the bizarre happenings in the locker room that none of the Rikkai regulars wanted anyone else to know about. Including this instance, as was evident when Yukimura stormed out of the shower wearing only a towel, trailing flecks of water and murder. Yanagi was immensely touched to see a bright splash of red across his cheeks. 

"Oh, were you busy?" Yanagi asked. He spoke as though he expected a serious answer, and felt a warm, tingly giggle behind his ribs when Yukimura brushed a slice of wet hair off his face, refusing to answer. Instead, he said, still facing away: "What is it that's bothering you?" And his voice was the same as always; soothing, a lullaby to sing your troubles away for a while. 

"Nothing," Yanagi said. 

"Clearly define 'nothing'," Yukimura ordered. Yanagi bit down on a smile. His captain knew him very well. 

"I'm not upset over Sanada," he said, stretching his legs out and feeling the tendons complain. "I mean, I doubt we'll continue with the whole 'platonic fuckbuddy' thing now he's got a proper boyfriend, but I'm not resentful in the least. He's still my best friend, we'll still have shopping excursions, tea and biscuits, and I guess teaching him stuff to do to Atobe won't count as fuckbuddying." Yanagi stopped, paused, considered, nodded: "Definitely not, we cleared that up last night. So you see, it's nothing, really. You don't have to worry about me." 

The way Yukimura collapsed onto the bench in front of him would have made a lesser man quiver with glee. 

"You and Sanada were _what_?" 

"We had to do _something_ while we were waiting for you make up your mind," Yanagi said. "I guess that's how you assumed I was quietly pining away for him. I must admit, when I look at someone and I'm quietly snickering at what they looked like last night, all flushed and flustered because no one's ever done _this_ to them in _that_ place before.. it does look quite hopelessly romantic, doesn't it?" His voice was no longer entirely bland, it was impossible to keep everything under control, and anyway he was quite sure that the path along which Yukimura's distraught gaze was fluttering strayed across his neck and lips and even his groin quite often. So much for Bambi, he thought. 

"Perhaps I shouldn't have told you," he said. "I apologize if such a thought offends your delicate moralities." He angled his head in the direction of the showers, deliberately, watched a fresh blush creep across Yukimura's face again as he said: "Or should I apologize for not inviting you along..?" 

He then noticed Yukimura was staring at him with such intensity, it was hard to distinguish whether it was hatred or lust. 

"Renji, this time, seriously," Yukimura said, and you could almost hear the harps playing in the background, so soft and sweet and merciful was his voice, "_fuck you_." 

This was hardly the first time Yukimura's angelic vocabulary had snapped in front of his other best friend, and, just like every time it did, Yanagi felt a mad gibbering rise from the pit of his stomach, knew it would sober up by the time it reached his mouth, form into words he would never say.. But he'd never before faced Yukimura when Yukimura was not totally in control, _and_ fresh out of the shower to boot, dark hair plastered to his forehead and neck, and only a towel around non-existent hips (that was apparently in imminent danger of sliding off if he breathed too hard, and didn't it seem like his left hand was desperately holding it up anyway?). Yanagi's self-control took on a new and monstrous form as he aligned his face into a perfectly sober expression in order to say: 

"Honestly, Seiichi, you're all talk and no action." 

Yukimura's eyes narrowed - still beautiful, but suddenly dark, heavy with shadow-mood. A new and tense harshness seemed to line his usually soft mouth, made Yanagi's breath catch noisily in a suddenly choked throat. No words, because words were insufficient for channeling this, what was this? A sense of something building up, a thread pulling taut between them, hearing the other boy's breathing tighten and quicken in time with yours, accelerating together; a slow, satisfying sort of realisation, curling up most wickedly delighted in the corner of his mouth. He stabbed the air with a commanding finger; never raised his voice, because he never had to. 

"Lock the door," he ordered. 

Yanagi noted that he _had_ been making an effort to keep the towel on. 

* * *


End file.
